


Practical Applications (of Falling in Love)

by echomoon



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: (except with magic), Ace Spectrum!Quentin, Asexual Character, Background Poly, Brakebills (The Magicians), F/M, Fluff, Handcuffed Together, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pet Names, Spell Failure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echomoon/pseuds/echomoon
Summary: After a spell misfires during Practical Applications, Penny and Quentin are forced to be closer than either will admit they want.





	Practical Applications (of Falling in Love)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a 5+1 about penny calling quentin pet names, but clearly it got away from me. shoutout to @ravenreyamidala for beta-ing and @BigBadLittleRed for always motivating me and helping me get this fic finished.

Quentin likes pet names.

Or well, the concept. He doesn’t have much experience with them in practice, unless you count his dad calling him ‘curly-q’ and Julia and James picking it up to tease him, shortening it to just Q as the years passed. But that’s more of a nickname than anything else. He likes real pet names, likes overhearing couples calling each other ‘honey’ and ‘darling’ and ‘baby’. The idea that someone might one day call him one of those things makes his chest warm up. Too bad his current track record is showing that he’ll be a loser and a loner forever - the only people who spend time with him these days hate him at worst and tolerate him at best.

Case in point, Penny, who he’s stuck sharing a dorm with, and now stuck sharing every possible moment for the rest of the month or more with, thanks to the shitty binding spell tying them together, not letting them more than a foot apart from each other. Penny, his room mate of exactly a month and a half, who has antagonized him from the moment he first opened his mouth. 

(Quentin tries to squash the part of his brain telling him it was his fault, the first thing he ever said to the man being an accusation of theft. That’s not what’s important here.)

Not so long story short, they had been forced to pair together during Practical Applications and fucked up the spell because they couldn’t get along long enough to actually get it to work. They were  _ supposed _ to be tying two book volumes together - and god he had  _ not _ needed to know that a side effect of casting magic on books was that they were made sentient, and he never wanted to watch books fucking  _ ever again _ \- but Penny found everything Quentin did, said, or thought personally offensive, and Quentin couldn’t help but antagonize and argue, which really didn’t help anything. So yeah, one failed spell later, and the binding was stuck to them instead, something meant to last for life but also meant for at the time inanimate objects and no one was really sure what side effects would pop up besides, you know, the inability to leave each other’s sides, or stop touching each other because five minutes without skin on skin contact and their limbs started feeling like someone was shoving a thousand nails into every pore all at once.

But what had brought Quentin to thinking about pet names, instead of this fucking awful situation, was Kady - Penny’s not girlfriend but more than fuckbuddy - who had just left the room, finally, and called out a ‘later, babe’ as she left. Stuck to a person who hated him, watching their sort of girlfriend leave after a half hour of them making out while he was forced to sit directly next to them, a hand on Penny’s bare leg so the spell didn’t cause them pain, listening to their affection for each other, even if they pretended it was all just sex and being cool - it made him feel lonely. He doesn’t have anyone here at Brakebills. He had left Julia behind with the muggles, Eliot and Margo never speak to him unless they wanted something, Alice avoids him, and he’s never approached by anyone else in their year. Penny is literally his closest acquaintance by default, both because they share a room and because of the spell.

His life is the worst.

Penny pinches his side.

“Ow! What the fuck?” Quentin hisses, slapping Penny’s hand away.

Penny holds his hand up mockingly, then slowly lowers it back to Quentin’s arm. Quentin waits for him to try something else, but nothing comes besides the contact.

“Stop thinking so loud. I can literally feel your jealousy vibrating my skull.” Penny says, reaching with his other arm for the pack of cigarettes on his bed stand. He tosses Quentin the lighter, gestures for him to strike it.

“Stop making up bullshit.” Quentin says, holding out the flame. Penny raises an eyebrow and tilts his head towards the door. Quentin frowns. “Kady isn’t my type, there’s no jealousy here.”

“Yeah, sure, sugar, I must be picking up someone else.” Penny says sarcastically, exhaling smoke as he talks. “You remember I’m psychic, right? And that your mental wards are literal shit? I can smell how bad they are.”

“You must be smelling yourself, asshole.” Quentin says. 

He wants to storm out of the room, but they only just left quarantine and he’s exhausted, and would have to drag Penny out with him anyway. He wants to lie in his own bed, but instead they have this king sized one in the middle of their room, because there’s too much a chance of them breaking contact while trying to sleep in separate beds. Quentin doesn’t really want to find out what the spell does for more than five minutes of no contact - thats the longest they’ve managed to last. Quentin thought he had better pain tolerance than that - he had done a lot of painful shit to himself before he got put on his meds, had barely felt anything during the later few years when he did it - but he was usually the one to chicken out the quickest. 

Penny says nothing, just finishes his cigarette. Quentin breathes in the second hand smoke, lets the weak stolen nicotine calm him. He tries not to smoke unless he’s mega stressed, or drinking, because he knows he has addiction problems in the making, but he didn’t have any rules about being around other people when smoking. 

“Speaking of smells,” Penny speaks up when he’s done, smirking, “we better learn a cleaning spell soon.”

“Why?” Quentin replies, confused.

Penny just looks at him with that stupid smug face until it clicks. Fuck, he did  _ not _ want to be having to touch Penny while they were both in the shower together.

“...Good thing I packed my swimsuit…” Quentin mutters, letting himself fall back against the pillows. He lays his arm over his eyes, wishing he  could just pass out even though it’s the middle of the afternoon. 

Penny cackles.

-

Someone wolf whistles at them.

For the third time since they left the dorm.

Quentin wants to curl up into a ball and die. Or punch the whistler in the face. Or punch Penny in the face, for that matter.

Word had travelled fast about their predicament, and it seemed like everyone on campus knew and found it the funniest thing since Todd tried to levitate a tray of drinks at the last Physical Cottage rager and spilled it over half the crowd. Everyone knew who he and Penny were now, and Quentin had never thought that being recognized would be worse than being anonymous. He’s embarrassed enough that he and Penny have to hold hands to get anywhere now - being stared at, cat called, whistled at, because of it? Literal hell.

“Ignore it, kid.” Penny sighs, also for the third time. 

“We are literally the same age,” Quentin replies, irritated.

“You sure as hell don’t act like it, sugar.” 

“And why do you keep calling me  _ that _ too?” Quentin says, wrenching his hand from Penny’s.

“What?” 

“ _ Sugar _ .” Quentin hisses.

“Oh,” Penny says, stopping short, looking genuinely confused for a second. “Habit? I’m from the south. Just talk like that.”

And that just makes Quentin get a sudden bolt of shame, like his anger was irrational and he’s at fault. He deflates.

“Where in the south?” Quentin asks, holding his hand out.

“...Florida.” Penny says, taking the hand. They keep walking. “No more personal questions. Or questions at all.”

“...Fine.” Quentin replies, taken off guard by the abrupt shut down. He mutters, “Not like I give a shit.”

Penny pinches him again.

-

For the third night in a row, Quentin wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating because of the human furnace clinging to his back. Apparently, Penny is a cuddler when he sleeps; Quentin is, yet again, enveloped in his grasp, an unwitting little spoon. 

He wiggles out of Penny’s grasp, sits up against the headboard. It’s strange, sharing a bed with someone, something he hadn’t done since he and James and Julia were in elementary school and were allowed to have sleepovers. Waking up with Penny’s arms around him feels nice. As if someone is caring for him. Wants him around. Wants him, in general. 

Its all fake, though, and that’s what hurts him. Penny wouldn’t have his arms around Quentin if it wasn’t for the spell, and Quentin doesn’t want to admit how much he’s come to enjoy the sensation.

Penny’s hand thumps onto the bed near him, and the man sleepily reaches around until he finds Quentin’s arm. He tugs Quentin, trying to pull him down.

“.... so loud...” Penny mumbles, still mostly asleep. 

He does that, talks in the middle of the night, doesn’t remember it in the morning. The night before he had kept accusing Quentin of stealing his pillow, barely intelligible, weirdly adorable with his sleepy grumpiness. He had fallen back asleep mid grumble, and then cuddled right up to Quentin’s back.

Penny tugs his arm again, and this time Quentin slides back down.

“...time to.. mm… sleep… good boy…” Penny mumbles, sighing mid sentence, wrapping his arm around Quentin’s chest by the end.

Quentin is frozen by the words. He stares at the ceiling, panicked brain spiraling so fast that he thinks nothing but white fuzz as the anxious ball forms in his chest. Eventually he falls into an uneasy sleep.

-

The next morning comes an event Quentin has been dreading.

He had showered the morning the mishap happened, so he was fine for a couple of days, but now? Now there was no avoiding it: they needed to take a shower.

They stand in the bathroom awkwardly, the small room hardly big enough for the both of them, holding hands; Quentin has the other arm wrapped around his chest, wishing he could curl into a ball, Penny with his other hand on his hip, taking way too much pleasure from the situation, as evident in the manic grin on his face.

Penny drops his hand, strips off his vest, shirt, and necklaces, dropping them to the floor. He rests his hand back on the back of Quentin’s neck, fingers slipping under the edge of the shirt. Quentin does nothing.

Penny’s grin fades a bit. 

“It’s not a big deal, dude, we’ve both been in locker room showers before. This won’t be any different.”

“Wow, with the bullying about every one of my physical features, too? Or will that cost extra?” Quentin says pseudo-obliviously. 

“Yeah, that’s part of the premium package,” Penny shoots back, lip twitching. “But seriously, nerd, what’s the damage? You don’t need to worry about dropping the soap or some shit, if I wanted to take advantage of you I a, would have done it by now and b, would have asked permission first.”

“Loving the confirmation that I’m ugly as shit and not even the campus horndog is interested in me.” Quentin sighs, and nudges Penny’s hand off his neck so he can take off his shirt. He’s a bit embarrassed about his body, soft where Penny’s is hard, but even that isn’t why he’s so nervous to get into the shower with Penny.

It’s stupid, that he considers showering together another form of intimacy that he’ll never get again once the spell is over. Every experience this botched spell is forcing him to have with Penny is wonderful and makes him feel a little bit closer to being whole - and knowing as soon as the spell is over, no one will ever be willing to do anything close to it with him again… he made it this far, not knowing what intimacy felt like. Now that he does? Magic isn’t enough to fill the void inside of him, anymore. He’s been touch starved his whole life, only Julia willing to give him an occasional hug, or to let him sit a little closer to her than he really should. He doesn’t want to go back to that ache.

Penny mutters under his breath, too quiet for Quentin to catch what he’s saying.

Quentin drops his shirt on the ground, turns so he’s no longer facing Penny. He reaches towards his waistband, fumbles with the zipper.

Penny lays a hand on his shoulder. 

“Quentin,” he says. Quentin refuses to turn around and look at him. “You realize that you  _ are _ attractive, right?”

Quentin scoffs. He undoes the button, lets his pants pool around his ankles.

“Yeah, no. Look at me.” Penny says, low and serious. He pushes at Quentin’s shoulder to move him, and Quentin folds like a house of cards, pliable and tumbling to face him. 

“I don’t really want to do this right now.” Quentin replies, staring off at the space next to Penny’s head, refusing to make eye contact.

“You don’t want to talk about this  _ ever _ .” Penny replies, “And I’m not your fucking therapist, but you need to get something through your head, honey. You. Are. Attractive. And if I thought for even a second you’d be interested in getting down with me, I would’ve propositioned you on day one. But I know you aren’t into that stuff, so I didn’t.”

Quentin bats away the weird compliment part of that; it’s the second part he focuses on.

“Just because I don’t want to fuck you doesn’t mean I don’t want to- nevermind, I don’t know, can we please just get this over with?” Quentin feels overly warm, knows his face must be bright red.

Penny doesn’t respond. He looks at Quentin, face clouding with a hard expression that floods Quentin with disappointment and shame. He pulls away, finishes undressing, climbs into the shower.

As he turns the water on, as Quentin stares at the cloudy glass shower walls and feels cold and alone, Penny says, “Look, if you wanna stop touching and have yourself another fucking seizure, fine. Just do it after we get clean.”

Quentin climbs in after him.

-

Later, as they lie in bed together - as Quentin lies on his side, legs touching Penny’s, breathing evenly, pretending to be asleep in an attempt to relieve the aura of disdain surrounding them - Quentin feels the cold indifference melt away from Penny’s posture. He feels Penny move an arm around him.

“Sex is all I can offer anyone,” Penny says suddenly. “It’s the only part of a relationship I’m good at. All anyone wants from me.”

Quentin lets the words race around his brain.

“I want. This sort of thing. And, words. Caring.” Quentin stutters, breaking his facade. “From anyone. Except not from anyone. From people I care about.”

“You’ve got an awfully long list of those.”

“I’ve got a lot of caring to give out. I don’t usually get it back, though.”

“I don’t know if I can give it to you.” Penny says, and Quentin immediately knows - he always really knew - that Penny knows how he feels about him. That Quentin has imagined dating him, had imagined having these kind of intimacies with him before the botched spell ever happened. Somehow, he’s not as ashamed as he thinks he should be.

“You’re doing a pretty good job so far.” Quentin replies, voice coming out more confident than he really feels. His heart is beating so fast he almost misses Penny’s reply.

“I’m going to fuck it up.”

“So will I.” Quentin says, turning over to face him. Their faces are an inch away from each other, so close Quentin’s eyes blur trying to focus on his whole face. “I don’t really know for sure what I want. With anything, ever. I’m never happy with what I can get. I’m afraid of being happy, and afraid I’m not capable of feeling it. But…”

“But you want to try anyway?” Penny finishes for him. “Very confident, Coldwater.”

“I’m occasionally capable, Adiyodi.” Quentin smiles. 

“Not often,” Penny jokes.

“Hey, you’re lucky to get me at functional, most days. Take what you can get.” Quentin replies.

“Sure.” Penny says.

It takes Quentin a minute to understand the reply, and when he does, he sits up so fast he almost hits his head against the headboard.

“Wait. Seriously?”

“If you want to.” Penny looks the most unsure of himself Quentin has ever seen.

“Okay. Um. What about Kady?” 

“We can talk to her tomorrow. She knows I’m poly, she’s chill with it. Are you?” 

“Poly? Yeah, obviously.” 

“I meant chill with it, but that works too.” Penny smiles.

“Oh. Right.” Quentin replies, letting each word out slowly. “So… let’s… figure things out?”

“Yeah.” Penny says. He lifts a hand up, rests it lightly on Quentin’s cheek. “Are you - do you like kissing?”

“Uh, it’s alright,” Quentin answers, “Why? Oh.”

Penny leans in, touches his lips to Quentin’s gently. Quentin lifts his hand to Penny’s neck and pulls him closer.

-

At their next check up a few days later, the faculty is pleased to discover that the spell has dissolved; both men are given clean bills of health.

They leave the infirmary holding hands anyway.

  
  
  



End file.
